Dear Child

Yeah, I totally blame you all for this. YEP.

Inspired by this fanart. Enjoy~

The squirt’s name is Kim. Or Ton. At the moment, Kon couldn’t decide between the two, but he was leaning more towards Kim if he was being completely honest. The kid certainly looked like a Kim, but then again, what was a hybridized human-clone baby supposed to look like anyway?

From where he was seated, the kid looked like any other baby he’d come across: small, chubby, messy—had a penchant for shoving their fists and other inanimate devices into their mouths. It was a little hard to believe that this tiny thing with pink skin and a beating heart was actually a mixture of his and Tim’s DNA structures.

He looked a little like Kon—well, he definitely had Kon’s eyes and his smile. But the rest were all Tim, from the dark mop of hair, where the ends curled along his ears and his neck; his small nose and tiny feet, and the way he just kept looking at everything around him with the same curiosity and wonder that Tim always got whenever he was trying to figure something out.
And while the whole issue was quite complicated at the moment—he wasn’t sure which was harder to swallow: the fact that Tim had actually tried to clone him (and succeeded in a way) or the fact that he now had a 2-year old son and was legitimately considered a father at this point—Kon had to admit, the kid was pretty damn cute. Except for when he slobbered all over Kon or cried endlessly, then he was just gross and irritating.
But a couple of wet shirts and sore eardrums were the least of his problems right now.

What the hell was he going to tell Clark?

Somehow, he didn’t think, “Hey, Clark. How have you been? By the way, I kind of, maybe, sort of, have a kid now” would be a great conversation to have over dinner. Kon didn’t even want to think about how he was going to explain that he didn’t actually impregnate a girl and that the kid was a clone much like himself, only cooler because he was half of Kon and half of Tim. Yeah… that conversation was not going to be pretty, Kon was sure of that.

But there were worse conversations to be had and Superman was just small fry compared to either Batman and, God forbid, Cassie. Kon shuddered at the thought. If Batman didn’t end up killing him (or cutting of his balls with his batarangs), Cassie was certainly not going to leave any remains behind.

“Kon?” said Tim, catching his attention. He looked worried. Kon could see Tim balling his hands into fists at his side. “Kon, I’m sorry.”

Of all the things Kon expected Tim to say, ‘sorry’ definitely hadn’t been one of them.

“What for?” he asked.

Tim bit his lip. He had that look on his face that meant he was over-thinking about stuff again—obsessing and worrying, feeling guilty for the things he should not be blaming himself for. And Kon finally understood.

Kon crossed the room to where he stood and placed his hands on Tim’s shoulders, giving them a comforting squeeze. “Tim, it’s okay,” he said gently, and it was Tim’s turn to look surprised.

“Okay?” he repeated, his voice a tinge incredulous. “How is any of this okay, Kon?” He shook his head and pushed Kon’s hands away, backing towards the window, where Kon could see the city of Gotham and beyond. “This is my own fault. I should never have tried… I just couldn’t…”

He stopped himself. Kon had never wanted more than to hear the end of those unfinished sentences, but a part of him already knew… was already aware of what didn’t need to be said. If it had been Tim instead of Kon, he wondered what he’d do? What lengths or barriers he’d cross just to get back what he’d lost; the thought made Kon scared of what he might be capable of. If it had been Tim instead of Kon, Kon wasn’t sure what he’d do. But all Kon knew was that he wouldn’t have wanted to lose Tim any more than Tim had wanted to lose him.

Tim sighed. “I just wanted you back that was all,” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around himself. “I wanted… I wanted my best friend back, however way I could. I just… I just needed you there—”

And it was like Kon could see everything Tim was seeing: Tim losing his father, Tim losing Steph and Bruce and now Kon. As far as this little insight of his could stretch, all Kon could see was Tim lonely and sad. He’d never want Tim to be either of those things ever again.

Again, without saying a word, Kon crossed over to where Tim stood, but instead of placing a hand on his shoulder, Kon snaked his arms around Tim’s waist and pulled him until Tim was against him, his hands grappling at the front of Kon’s shirt and face buried against Kon’s chest, like he was trying to meld into him.

“I’m here,” Kon murmured and felt the hold Tim had on him tighten significantly. He pulled Tim even closer, his cheek resting against the top of his hair. “I’m here, Tim, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He thought he heard Tim choke back a sob as he pressed his face closer to Kon’s chest. But whether Kon’s shirt was damper than usual, he never commented nor complained about it, and simply held Tim until he was no longer shaking or crying.

“What are we going to do now?” said Tim, wiping at his nose with his sleeve. Kon followed his line of vision, where it predictably landed on Kim, who seemed to have grown bored with his hands and was now gnawing at his foot. It made the ends of Kon’s mouth pull upwards into a smile.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said, grinning.

“What?” Tim said, blinking. “You mean… we’re going to raise him? Like together?”

“What else do you think I meant?” said Kon, raising a brow. “You didn’t really think you were going to take on all the responsibility, were you?”

“I…” Judging from Tim’s rather blank expression, this was precisely what he was going to do.

Kon tapped him lightly on the head, as if to scold him. “No way, man. He’s my kid too. I deserve at least half custody over him,” he joked.

“But,” said Tim, still looking at a loss for words, “you don’t have to. It’s my fault.” He flailed his arms in a comic gesture of desperation. “You don’t really have to—”

Kon placed a finger on his lips to stop him. “Tim, don’t,” he said gently but firmly. “We’re doing this together. We need to stick together no matter what, remember?”

But before Tim could say anything, there was a loud crash that made both of them turn their heads immediately to the baby… who had found his way into one of Tim’s flower pots and was now covered in dirt. As if sensing his parents’ gaze on him, Kim turned and looked at them, his blue eyes blinking and his mouth hanging open.

Kon chuckled and picked the child off the floor using his TTK, cleaning him off. Kim instantly burst into fits of giggles, his arms and legs flapping like a bird as he floated over to where they were. Kon scooped him in mid-air and it made Kim giggle harder.

“I should really kill you for doing that,” Tim commented lightly, but Kon saw that he was smiling too.

“He’s alright though. Aren’t you, Kim?” he asked the baby, who just laughed, not really understanding what was being said to him, and patted a slobbery hand on Kon’s face. “Aw… Ew.”

Tim’s smile widened and then plucked Kim from Kon’s arms. “Well, if we’re doing this,” he said, bouncing Kim on his hip, “there is no way in hell we’re calling our baby ‘Kim’.”

Kon wiped the residues of saliva from his cheek. “What’s wrong with Kim?” he asked, defensively. “I think it’s a great name. It’s a combination of ‘Tim’ and ‘Kon’ put together, so you know it has character.”

Tim snorted. “I think the creativity is a little lacking, Kon,” he said as Kon huffed. Tim looked at the child with something akin to fondness. “You don’t want to be called ‘Kim’ now, do you?”

The baby just babbled something incoherent before proceeding to stick his hand back in his mouth.

“See?” said Tim, nodding. “He says you should try to be more original.”

“I think he likes the name,” Kon said, giving Tim a face.

“I didn’t know you spoke ‘baby’, Kon,” said Tim dryly, as he took Kim’s hand out of his mouth and started wiping it with a handkerchief.

“I’m fluent at it,” said Kon, watching the display with a mixture of curiosity and awe. He didn’t know seeing Tim and the baby would have such an effect on him, but it made Kon want to be a part of it.

He reached out and held his finger out to the baby, who didn’t hesitate to take it; his pudgy little fingers wrapping along the length of Kon’s index finger, his skin warm and soft against Kon’s much larger and rougher one. It was amazing. Just how small and fragile this child was, how dependent he was of both Kon and Tim; it made something inside Kon grow fierce and tight and yet expand until it consumed him entirely. Like he wanted to be right here, holding his son’s hand every step of the way, guiding him forward.

Beside him he could feel Tim’s eyes on them, his expression soft.

“What would you name him then?” asked Kon, his voice a little rough.

Tim looked at the baby and brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead, a move so gentle and sweet it made that feeling in Kon’s chest expand again.

“Jack…” said Tim quietly, his eyes far away. “I like the name Jack.”

Kon stared at him for a long moment in understanding, and then at their son, who still had yet to release Kon’s finger.

It made Kon wonder what he’ll grow up to be like, if he’ll be a superhero like him and Tim, if he’ll take on the Titan mantle like his parents. He wondered what sort of abilities he would have—if he had any at all. Maybe he’d have Kon’s strength or his speed, or maybe he’ll be just like Tim, without the powers but still just as capable and intelligent. Or maybe he’ll have the best of both worlds—a Super by day and a Bat by night. Kon knew he was eager to find out.

“Jack,” he repeated as he watched the baby lean forward into Tim’s open embrace, looking suddenly drowsy. Kon slipped his arm around Tim’s waist and gave him a wide smile. “I like the sound of that.”